


ply her heart with gold and silver

by withredhair



Series: Buffyverse Femslash Prompts [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withredhair/pseuds/withredhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Buffyverse femslash prompt generator: Buffybot / Illyria / necklace</p>
            </blockquote>





	ply her heart with gold and silver

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song The Culling of the Fold by the Decemberists

“Spike.” Illyria swept into the room, a jolt of electric blue, and nailed him with her imperious stare.

The vampire glanced up from where he was cleaning his weapon. “Yeah, pet?”

Other than a small frown, Illyria gave no notice to the impertinence of his address, seemingly intent on her goal, whatever it may be. “I have need of your counsel.”

His eyebrows shot up. _Well, well. This should be interesting._ Fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it, Spike took a drag and then dropped his hand, letting the stick dangle from his lips. “Well, then. Fire away.”

Illyria lifted her chin and stated with the gravity of a royal decree: “I wish for you to inform me about human mating rituals.”

Spike almost dropped his cigarette. “So, uh, you’ve found someone that’s caught your eye, eh?” It was good she’d started looking at other people. Wes’s death had hit her harder than he expected.

She folded her arms, looking none too pleased. “I understand that social gatherings called ‘dates’ are generally organized. However, there seems to be some sort of wooing required as a prerequisite to intercourse.”

Spike tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, pet, that’s usually the case. Depends, though. What exactly are you looking for out of this relationship? Do you just want to shag or are you interested in something more long-term?” Christ, he sounded like a bloody relationship counselor.

“I find her a worthy opponent and wish to continue to engage with her in combat, conversation, and sexual intercourse.”

A worthy opponent? A slayer, maybe, given the female pronouns. “Well, uh, if you want to woo her, I suggest gifts. Girls love ‘em.”

Illyria cocked her head, blue eyes intense. “What sort of gifts are customary?”

Spike shrugged. “You know, flowers, jewelry. Weapons, if she’s into that, but most normal humans aren’t.”

Illyria nodded, once. “Your advice is acceptable.” She turned on her heel and marched out as swiftly as she’d entered, leaving a bemused Spike to stare after her.

* * *

The woman did not turn her head when the door to the gym swung open, continuing her exercise routine with single-minded intensity. Her blonde hair, pulled back with a hairband, swung from side to side as she whirled, punched, and kicked her stationary target. Illyria stood watching her silently for several minutes before she slowed and turned to face her. “Oh. Are you here to see me?” she asked with a wide, bright smile.

“I am,” Illyria confirmed, taking a step closer.

“Oops. Sorry about that!” she chirped. “I still sometimes have trouble knowing when people want to talk to me and when they want to be left alone.” Her smile dimmed a little bit. “Perhaps because people don’t talk to me very much anymore.”

“Well,” Illyria said with a lofty lift of her chin, “I take pleasure in conversing with you. Among other things.”

It must have worked, because she brightened again. “Yes, me too! I had fun sparring with you last time.” She moved closer to Illyria, so they were standing side by side, holding eye contact the entire time.

“I have been meaning to ask, when I next saw you. How is it that you are able to challenge me in combat? I have become accustomed to a much lower quality of ability on this planet.”

Buffybot switched into explanation mode with a burst of pride. Somehow Illyria always made her feel like her nonhuman status was an asset, not an abnormality. “My data processors interpret information at an extremely high speed, compared to the human brain.”

Illyria inclined her head. “So you were built for a higher evolutionary purpose.”

But Buffybot shook her head. “I was built to be the Slayer. To be Buffy Summers.” Her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Illyria’s shoulder, yet her expression was distant. “But I suppose that’s no longer necessary. I am no longer the only Buffy Summers, let alone the only Slayer. I have become obsolete.”

Illyria frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “You are essential to me.” Her stomach twisted at what could be called an admission of weakness, but- she was simply saying that Buffybot was irreplaceable, that she fulfilled a unique role in her life… as Wesley once had. Even though they could technically build another robot identical to her, Illyria doubted that they would be any more able to replicate her personality than they could reproduce a human soul.

Buffybot’s answering smile was less wide, but no less genuine, rising up slow and curling and warm with affection and gratitude. Illyria decided that if there was any time for gift-giving, for moving forward their courtship, it would be now. She removed the present from her clothing and held it out, letting it dangle from her fingers. Buffybot reached out to touch it. “For me?”

Illyria confirmed with a nod- “I had heard jewelry was customary”- and Buffybot grinned. “That’s true. And diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” She hesitated before moved her pony tail off of her neck. “Put it on for me?”

Illyria unfastened the clasp and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it tighter so the diamond pendant rested just above her breasts. She lingered there, touching her hot neck, alive with machinery.

Buffybot turned her head so their faces were inches apart. “Kiss me?”

It seemed Spike’s advice was indeed acceptable. In this, at least, she did not mind acquiescence.

Illyria did.


End file.
